(HAILEY’S POV)I sit in the restaurant booth, tapping my fingers on the polished wooden table in a slow, restless rhythm. Tap… tap… tap. I don’t even realize I'm doing it until the sound starts to blend with the soft clinking of spoons and plates around me. My order should have been ready by now. I mean, how long does it take to scoop ice cream? It’s already been close to forty-five minutes. Forty-five. The number rolls in my head like a complaint waiting to burst out of my mouth.

The ...